


Tangled in the Flicker

by uwunium



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Charleston Shoe Thieves (Blaseball Team), Gen, NaN has awful luck, New York Millennials (Blaseball Team), also i was drawing a NaN while this happened, feedback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwunium/pseuds/uwunium
Summary: "Reality begins to flicker ... But Hotbox Sato resists! NaN is tangled in the flicker!"
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Tangled in the Flicker

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello I have been screaming about this for *checks watch* an hour now. I had to write this.

The noise was deafening. NaN didn’t know if they’d ever get used to it.

The feedback had become stronger- indescribably stronger and more intense, more powerful, more shrill, more shocking. Anyone would be overwhelmed- and NaN absolutely was. Feedback had a feeling for them. It took over everything. That mechanical scream, like thunder ripping through the sky. It was an unrelenting barrage of sound, and all NaN knew is that they _needed to get far away from it._

Sometimes, they heard words in the feedback; the screech morphing into something barely human but audible nevertheless. And that voice told them when they needed to move. They said it was a side effect of being a receiver- they could flicker just right and hear words from some strange person only known as “the microphone.” NaN didn’t know anything about them, except to do as they requested. 

It was day 57, and that _noise_ just kept getting louder. Over the past few weeks, they could _feel_ the vibrations of the feedback intensify. And taking a look at the weather forecast, they knew that today was scheduled to have feedback weather.

NaN readied up before the game. They hadn’t spent much time in New York, and they hoped to stay for longer, but they knew it wasn’t up to them- the microphone will tell them when they need to leave, and they knew that it was for the best.

Stepping onto the field, the noise was unbearable. It had always been bad, but somehow, since those tarot cards were drawn at the beginning of the season, everything felt more _intense._ They assumed they were just overwhelmed, and tried their best to ignore it.

It was now the bottom of the 8th inning, and the noise had become even more omnipresent. The noise began to warp, to change, to alter itself to create a shaky voice that NaN recognized but could never quite identify. They heard the microphone speaking to them.

“NaN, it’s time to leave. You have to continue on your journey.”

A great, glowing cord streaked across the sky like magenta lightning, as the sound increased in volume once again. NaN closed their eyes, knowing what would come next. They felt reality begin to fade and falter and flicker around them as the cord clipped into their very soul, something indescribable and unviewable and unquantifiable. 

They knew what would happen next. The cord would bind to the soul of another player, and they’d find themselves in the other’s position on the field, and the noise would quiet down and that Wyatt guy would thank them and they’d meet new friends and it’d happen again.

This time something was different.

They felt the tug of the cord- it was unsteady.

“What’s going on?” They asked no one in particular. They felt themselves flickering, but it didn’t resolve this time. They just stayed, half in this universe, half somewhere else, half non-existent at all, half existing over a thousand souls. The noise began to warp again.

“I-” It was hard to understand through the distortion. “I don’t know.”

NaN looked around them in the few moments where they could see the immaterial plane, to see the cord pointing towards Hotbox Sato.

“I…” Hotbox grimaced through the sound. “I can’t…. I can’t leave them… I won’t leave them!”

“I can’t connect!” The feedback spoke to NaN.

“What do you mean you can’t connect?” NaN asked, scared. This wasn’t what usually happened. It was supposed to work. It wasn’t working. Would they die? Be erased from existence? 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think this through-” Wyatt sounded just as distressed through the feedback, “No, focus… I have to focus...”

The wire pulled taut, mere inches away from Hotbox. NaN felt their soul being tugged, yet they knew that they just needed a little bit longer, and-

The wire snapped.

NaN was launched backwards, and as the broken wire was pulled in the same direction, it clipped and glitched and fell onto NaN’s flickering form and trapping them within its grasp.

The noise faded. Everyone was looking at them. NaN looked to where they were standing, saying nothing, simply staring in utter shock as they failed to stabilize. 

Gunther O’Brien pitched the ball. 

Strike. 

**Author's Note:**

> i am too brrrrrr right now to be coherent my twitter is @uwunium also follow @formernumber anyways back to screaming


End file.
